


Solving the Mystery

by EllianaDunla



Series: Unseen Keepers of the Secret [4]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-07
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-05-12 11:06:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5663920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllianaDunla/pseuds/EllianaDunla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Meet Merlin: friendly, loyal, tiny bit clumsy, very magical. Also, just about as subtle as a brick. So he really shouldn't be surprised to learn that not everyone's skull is as thick as Arthur's. But he is. He really is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Mystery

It was quite a normal day by Camelot standards. There had only been one sighting of a could-be magical creature in a far-off village, Arthur had only very nearly read his speech intended for the knights to the assembled Guild of Candlemakers – through no fault of Merlin’s, mind; it was Arthur who couldn’t distinguish between the two – and Merlin had only very nearly escaped being seen using magic by one of the people of the lower town. All things considered, he thought, it had been a good sort of day. Granted, he was sore all over from all the chores Arthur had him doing – sometimes he rather thought the king amused himself by coming up with all manner of tasks during boring council meetings; it _would_ explain the vacant stare – but it was better than being sore from being shot at.

It had been dark for ages already when Arthur finally let him off. Gaius would probably be asleep already, so the chances that he had kept supper hot were slim to none. Merlin couldn’t really blame him. But it did mean a detour to the kitchens. Maybe, if he was lucky, he could get his hands on one of the cook’s fabled pies. If he was less lucky – meaning: if the cook herself was in the kitchen – he would only get leftovers or dry bread. For some reason Mary, Queen of the Kitchens, did not like him much.

‘Hello there, Merlin!’ he was greeted cheerfully upon his arrival. Nope, Mary was nowhere in sight. Her assistant Sarah was the only one still around. ‘Have you come in search of pie?’

Merlin was fairly sure he was going to get one no matter what he did, because unlike her employer, Sarah actually liked him. Still, a smile couldn’t hurt. ‘Have you got one left, or has his Royal Pratness eaten all of them? I had to put another hole in his belt today. Again.’

And when Arthur had caught him in the act of doing so, there had been a good long death glare that warned Merlin not to utter the word _fat_ in his hearing. Of course, Merlin had let it slip accidentally anyway. He distinctly remembered saying the word _not_ before _fat_ , though, but it must have gone straight over Arthur’s head again, because he’d thrown a goblet in Merlin’s direction as a reward. Fortunately that one had gone right over Merlin’s head, so no harm done.

Sarah grinned. ‘You’re in luck,’ she announced. ‘I kept one back for you. The unsung hero of Camelot deserves only the very best.’

He gave her a quizzical look. ‘Unsung hero?’

Sarah blushed a deep crimson, as if she only just realised she had said something she shouldn’t and then she started talking so fast it was hard to distinguish individual words. ‘Well, you work harder than any of us. You practically keep the kingdom running. I mean, what would become of Arthur if you didn’t run around cleaning up after him?’

‘He would hire George again,’ Merlin replied promptly. ‘And be bored to death within the week.’ Well, he’d probably be dead within the week, that part was true enough, but quite possibly not of boredom.

Apparently and surprisingly, Sarah seemed to have her doubts about that as well. ‘Just of boredom, eh?’ When she saw she had managed to confuse him, she shrugged it off and turned around to fetch the pie. ‘Never mind. Just take that and find a quiet place to eat it. Mary will have both our heads if she finds out I’ve been smuggling you pies.’

‘Yes, she doesn’t much like me,’ Merlin agreed.

‘Well, you shouldn’t have said all those nasty things about her pies then, should you?’ Sarah told him and Merlin couldn’t think of one thing to say in return. The kitchen maid had a point, after all. The pies were delicious, but hearing Mary go on and on about them became very tiring very quickly. Could anyone blame him for losing his temper just once?

It wasn’t until he had devoured the pie and was lying in bed that he realised that the only time he had insulted Mary’s pies was when he had been in his Dragoon/Emrys disguise and she couldn’t have recognised him.

Well, wasn’t that odd?

* * *

 

Speaking of odd, once it had gotten started, it didn’t seem to stop. The next morning he went down to the kitchens early to return the plate before Mary got in. This time of day she was usually out discussing Important Business with her suppliers and the vendors at the market. It was her firm belief that her subjects – meaning: the kitchen personnel – could hardly mess up breakfast and hence that was the best time to leave them unsupervised. Merlin knew this and used it. He’d be a fool not to and, contrary to popular belief, he really wasn’t one.

It was quiet in the kitchens. Most maids weren’t in yet. But Sarah would be. Merlin suspected she had a bed hidden away behind a cupboard somewhere, because she was always the last one to leave and the first one to arrive. Technically, no one ever seemed to witness either her arriving or her leaving, which led to the rumour that she never left at all. In all his years in Camelot Merlin had never seen proof to contradict it.

‘I’ve been such a fool!’ he heard her lamenting to one of her many friends. That was unexpected; in all the time Merlin had known her – and she had worked here as long as he had – she had never been anything but cheerful and friendly.

‘How so?’ Elen, another kitchen maid asked. ‘Did you burn the chicken? Because if that’s the case, Mary will skin you alive and cook you for dinner instead. And none of my pleas will save you, you know.’

Merlin hid behind the door. Eavesdropping was a bad habit, he knew, but old habits died hard. And he was curious, especially since it was such a difference from what was normal. Not normal was usually synonym for bad news.

‘It’s worse,’ Sarah said. ‘I nearly told him! I nearly told him that I know! I knew I shouldn’t have accepted that wine Tom offered me yesterday! It’s making me all talkative and stupid. I am never touching it again. I swear!’

Speaking of things that did not make sense. What was she going on about? Nearly told who that she knew what? He had to say, this did not sound well.

Elen appeared to understand, though. ‘Oh,’ she replied, seemingly taken aback. Then she recovered. ‘Oh, well, it’s not as if he has worked it out before and we haven’t exactly been subtle about it sometimes. Merlin’s as oblivious as the king, bless him, just about different things. He won’t suspect a thing, I promise. And if he does, you’ll just whack him over the head with the ladle and he’ll forget all about it. Best not to tell Mary about it, though.’

Sarah laughed. ‘I know better than _that_.’

‘Well, you ought to know better than to drink wine too,’ Elen remarked wryly. ‘You do know Tom is sweet on you, don’t you? So if you just promised to spend the day with him once, maybe he’ll stop bringing you things.’

‘Spend the day with him?’ Sarah exclaimed. ‘I’m busy here all hours of the day. Where would I ever find the time? Mary would never let me leave.’

The conversation kept getting more curious by the second. But Merlin was well aware, like all the other servants, that invoking Mary’s name summoned her quicker than a person could blink. It wasn’t magic – he _had_ made sure of that years ago – and no one was quite sure what it was, but it was how things were. And he had better not be here when the woman descended on her domain, so he skipped in like he had only just arrived, thanked Sarah for saving him some delicious supper last night and asked about the king’s breakfast.

Sarah looked increasingly awkward and after half a minute Elen took pity on her and stepped in. Something was not quite right here, but he knew better than to ask. Sarah was still holding the ladle, after all. He would get to the bottom of this, though.

But probably not today and certainly not this very moment. Over the years he had developed a sixth sense telling him when danger was near. It told him some was rapidly approaching and given where he was, it could only be one person. Time for a quick escape.

Merlin was quick, but not quick enough. On his way out he almost collided with the very woman he was trying to avoid.

‘Where do you think you’re going?’ She waved her finger so close to Merlin’s face he almost had to look cross-eyed in order to see it properly.

‘Serving the king’s breakfast!’ he said, holding up the plate as if it was evidence in a court, which it sort of was. After all, Mary fancied herself the Queen of the Kitchens and no one, not even King Arthur himself, dared to contradict her on the matter. It was only common sense to keep the one that fed him on side. Although there wouldn’t be quite such a need to adjust belts if Mary cut him off for a time, Merlin thought cheekily.

By the look of things, she did not believe him. ‘One of my pies went missing last night,’ she stated. The finger moved closer and Merlin did a step back. It was only good sense; he didn’t want her to poke his eye out.

‘Oh,’ Merlin said, swallowing back the almost automatic reply of ‘it wasn’t me.’

The show of innocence did nothing to abate Mary’s suspicion. ‘If I find out you stole one of my pies after you insulted them, I _will_ roast you for dinner instead of the pig.’

‘I wouldn’t!’ he exclaimed, meanwhile searching for an escape route. He could try to slip past her, but that would take some effort. Mary was a large woman and she positively dominated the corridor. ‘Look, I’ve got the king’s breakfast. I have to serve it!’

It worked. ‘Then go and do it before the bread goes stale, boy, and don’t dawdle. And they will never find your body if you so much as think about dropping it!’

Her threats followed him down the hallways as Merlin did his best to get as far away from her as his legs would carry him whilst not dropping anything on the plate. So when he finally realised that Mary had known about his pie-insults as well, he was already on the other side of the castle. And he didn’t think she had recognised him when he was wearing his old man disguise. She couldn’t have, could she? Because if she did, she knew he had magic. And if she knew he had magic, she would have reported him to the king, if only to punish him for his many kitchen-related crimes. So it couldn’t be that.

Unfortunately it didn’t explain how she knew.

* * *

 

Fortunately some things would never change and Arthur truly was in a fine shape this morning. Rising early was never his strong suit, especially not if the reason he had to get out of bed before sunrise was that he still had a speech to learn. He was lucky that at least he didn’t have to write it; Merlin had done that the previous day. And a good speech it was too. Arthur would deliver it later that day to the Guild of Carpenters and Merlin had kindly invited Gerold, one of his friends in the lower town and a skilled carpenter himself, to help out. Of course, Arthur knew nothing about that. He merely wondered where an idiot such as Merlin had learned that much about a craft he couldn’t possibly master himself, being so clumsy all the time. Merlin hadn’t enlightened him.

Predictably, Arthur was moody and clearly not in the right state of mind to appreciate a joke, if the sudden cutlery throwing contest was anything to go by. These were the times that Merlin had to remind himself that Arthur was really a good man who had come quite a long way from being the bully that he had been when they had first met. It was just a tiny bit hard to recall it during the early morning sessions of complaints and target practise, with Merlin being the target in question.

There would be no cleaning Arthur’s room until after the king had learned the speech, so Merlin made himself scarce and headed down for the hated chore of mucking out the stables.

Of course, he never quite made it that far.

‘Good morning, Merlin.’ George greeted him just before he left the castle.

‘Morning,’ Merlin said. He never quite knew what to make of George. Half the time he looked at him in disapproval for the way he did – or didn’t do – his work and the other half he looked at him as if Merlin would bite at any given moment. It didn’t make sense at all, but Merlin had quickly learned to chalk that up to George being George. The man made jokes about brass at the rare occasion he did try to loosen up, for goodness sake.

‘Allan has asked me to tell you to take a quick look at the stable door when you go there.’ George had a very formal way of talking. It came with being the perfect servant, Merlin supposed.

Merlin frowned. ‘You should ask one of the carpenters.’ There would be enough of them wandering around soon enough to listen to Arthur’s speech. Surely one of them could do it? They certainly could do it quicker than Merlin could.

George shook his head and gave him the special sort of look he reserved for people he thought were shirking their duties. It went without saying he looked at most people like that. ‘Allan was adamant you were to do it. He said to tell you that a man of your talents ought to fix it in a jiffy.’

Those were Allan’s words no doubt. Merlin generally liked the Captain of the Guard, but he had enough chores to be getting on with as it was. Man of your talents indeed. He didn’t know how Allan had got wind of the speech for the Guild of Carpenters already. He’d thought that Gerold could keep his mouth shut or he would never have confided in him, just to avoid this very scenario.

‘How did Allan know?’ Of course, it was pointless to ask. George didn’t like palace gossip, never mind partaking in it.

If there was such a thing as looking politely confused, then George was doing it. ‘What did Allan know?’

‘About the speech,’ Merlin clarified.

Other people would have asked: ‘What speech?’ Not George. George said: ‘I do not believe I know which speech you are referring to.’ With the way he was talking he could give the majority of the nobles a run for their money. He certainly spoke more posh than Arthur did.

‘The speech for the Carpenters’ Guild,’ Merlin answered. Either Allan hadn’t told George what he meant or his fellow servant was exceptionally slow today.

‘Oh,’ George said. In so far as it was possible, he even managed to say that politely. Even after a few years in Camelot he still hadn’t managed to talk any other way. ‘I do not believe that the subject of the speech was the talent that Allan meant.’ If Merlin had blinked he would quite have missed out on the quick smile that passed over George’s face, as if he was privy to a joke Merlin could not possibly understand. ‘Good day, Merlin.’

Merlin was quite used to being in the know about things in Camelot; it was how he kept Arthur alive. Not knowing so many things, it made him feel like… well, like Arthur, truth be told. Only Arthur didn’t know that he was oblivious to so many things, so it was not quite the same. But still. Something strange was going on, something shifty and it seemed to have infected most of the servants he’d spoken to since yesterday evening. He didn’t think it was magic, even though it usually was when something was wrong. But it would have to wait. There were chores to be done and doors to be repaired and apparently that was one of his talents now.

The stable door in question had been torn or blown – Merlin couldn’t say – off its hinges and was lying on the floor as if waiting for someone to come and fix it, which apparently was Merlin’s job. And he had no idea how to put it back the way it was, not the slow and non-magical way. But there weren’t any people around really and if he was really very quick and stealthy, then all anyone need ever know was that he was better at fixing things than they had previously expected. And it was not as if anyone had ever caught him doing magic before…

Five minutes later the door was as good as new and Merlin had just done a few steps back to admire his handiwork when the sound of running footsteps alerted him to the minor crisis taking place behind him. A rather shady looking man – it seemed to be standard practise for all bad guys to dress in dark colours – came running at top speed, with Allan and Tom in hot pursuit.

‘Stop the thief!’ Tom at least had enough breath to shout, whereas his superior, who was getting on in age, needed all his energy to keep up with his younger friend.

He really shouldn’t use any magic in public, but it wasn’t as if people really noticed, was it? And it was an emergency. Of course, that would not stop Gaius from giving him an earful about using magic where everyone could see and did he want to end up being burned for witchcraft, because if not, well, it could have fooled him. Merlin knew the lecture by heart, could reproduce it even in his sleep. Still, exceptions had to be made for a crisis. A thief making off with the queen’s jewels counted as one in Merlin’s book.

And it wasn’t as if the thief wasn’t asking to be stopped, what with how easy he made Merlin’s job this time. He ran over a broomstick that some stable boy had forgotten and it was really far too easy to make it hover above the ground an inch or two, just enough to make the thief trip and land face first in the pile of obliging hay. Before he could so much as think of getting up again, Tom had jumped on his back.

Allan left the prisoner to Tom and made his way over to Merlin.

‘A fine job,’ he complimented.

Merlin smiled as innocently as he could. ‘It was easy,’ he said, hoping all the same that this wouldn’t mean people would ask him to fix things all the time. Repairing one door with no witnesses in sight was one thing, but fixing things with people around was quite another. ‘It will hold for a while.’ He gave an experimental rap with his knuckles on the wood and was very pleased to find that it didn’t come crashing down again.

Allan looked at it as if he had only just noticed the door. ‘Oh yes, very fine job indeed,’ he said. ‘But I rather meant your help with the capture of a dangerous fugitive.’  
Now it was Merlin’s turn to be confused. ‘But I didn’t do anything.’ And he had checked if the broomstick was lying where it had before he had made it fly. It was. And from that distance no one could have noticed it really. ‘I was just here. Fixing the door.’

Allan nodded with an indulgent smile. ‘Indeed. So you were. My apologies. You were nowhere near, so of course you couldn’t have made him trip. It must just have been a trick of the light then.’

Uh oh. ‘Yeah, must have been,’ Merlin agreed.

‘Because it can’t have been magic,’ Allan continued. ‘My eyes aren’t as young as they used to be.’ Merlin could have sworn there was a twinkle in those eyes, almost as if the guardsman knew more than he was saying. Really, him as well? What was wrong with people today? ‘Well, I must be getting on with it. Can’t let Tom do all the work alone. But a good job, a very good job indeed.’

Something, Merlin decided, something was really very wrong here.


	2. The Answer

The following days went by in much the same fashion, leaving Merlin ever more bewildered and indeed ever more worried. Arthur behaved normal enough and the same could be said for the noblemen and the knights, but among the serving staff and the guards something was amiss. Some of them were talking as if they knew about his magic, but of course, that couldn’t be. If that was the case, someone would have reported him to the king by now. All the same, they kept hinting that they knew something Merlin didn’t. To make it even worse, even George, who never gossiped unless threatened, was in on it. Not that he enjoyed it as much as the others did, mind, but he wouldn’t budge and answer even when Merlin had asked about it.

Well, if that was the case, maybe it was time to fall back on the old and trusted method of eavesdropping. Merlin didn’t like it. They were his friends and he got on very well with practically all of them – Mary being the obvious exception to the rule – so spying on them did not sit well with him, but needs must. So he hid himself away in one of the barely used cupboards of the kitchen one night and waited.

He didn’t have to wait long.

‘Oh, that does look painful,’ Sarah said. Through the cracks Merlin saw her and Allan practically carry Tom into the kitchen. Elen and George followed in their wake, the latter carrying a bucket of water while the former appeared to have raided Gaius’s medical supplies. ‘Let’s get you into a chair and then we can take a look at it.’

George frowned. Even this he managed to do politely. ‘I do not understand why you would do this in the kitchens,’ he said. ‘This is not a clean environment.’

‘We could have just taken him to Gaius,’ Elen agreed. ‘He could have a look at him when he’s done with all the fancy folk.’

‘That will be ages yet.’ Sarah dismissed it without even looking at her friend. ‘What kind of magical creature was that anyway, now that you mention it?’

Of course Elen had no clue. Truth be told, Merlin did not even know. He hadn’t had time to look through Gaius’s books before he had to run out to deal with it, trying to keep out of the way of the frightened townsfolk and meddling knights who had deluded themselves into thinking that they could somehow defeat a creature of magic with ordinary swords and spears. Naturally, they now knew better. And hopefully Morgana knew better than to send another one of its kind in Camelot’s general direction.

‘Haven’t the foggiest,’ Elen said airily. ‘Doesn’t matter either way, does it? I mean, it is gone.’

‘So it is,’ Sarah agreed. She had taken the supplies from Elen and now demanded that Tom take his shirt off so that she could take a look at the bruise. ‘You better hope your ribs didn’t get cracked,’ she muttered. ‘I won’t rightly know what to do with that.’

Elen didn’t take it quite that serious. ‘You know, you don’t need to go looking for excuses to ask him to take his shirt off, you know. He’s mad about you, probably would do anything you asked of him.’

Merlin couldn’t see Tom’s face from where he was sitting, but he suspected that, like Sarah’s, it was bright red. Everyone knew that those two had been dancing around one another for at least two years now, but neither of them would do anything about it. Clearly Elen had lost patience and decided to take matters into her own hands.

‘You should stay out of things that don’t concern you,’ Sarah snapped, busying herself treating the bruise that was already colouring a spectacular shade of purplish blue. Merlin nearly winced himself. He’d had enough of them himself to know that they hurt. A lot. ‘What were you thinking taking on that monster anyway? Weren’t you supposed to guard the door?’

‘So you know his duties too, now?’ Elen observed in a would-be nonchalant manner.

Both Sarah and Tom ignored this. ‘I was guarding the door,’ the guardsman replied. ‘But then the monster tried to get through it. And Merlin wasn’t there yet and there was not a knight in sight either, so I didn’t have a lot of choice, did I?’

Merlin had often wondered about the unrivalled lack of initiative displayed by the guards. They just stood there, guarding things, looking threatening and occasionally arresting people when the need arose and the king commanded it. But if their orders were to only ever guard the thing they were supposed to guard and never move unless aforementioned thing was under attack, well, that would explain a lot. It didn’t make it any more logical or sensible, but it did clarify a few things. Maybe he should mention it to Arthur at some point.

And then there was that other thing Tom said. _Merlin wasn’t there yet._ What did he have to do with anything? Well, quite a lot in fact, seeing as how it was Merlin who had sent the creature packing, but no one ever knew about it. They weren’t supposed to know, because if they did, they also knew he was using magic. And that would be bad. Very bad.

He’d have to run, back to Ealdor maybe or someplace even more distant than that. And he didn’t want to, because Arthur would be dead in days.

‘I for one think you did a very heroic thing,’ Sarah declared. ‘Even if you won’t get any credit for it.’

‘We could reward you with one of Mary’s famous pies,’ Elen suggested. ‘There are a few left in the larder.’

‘We could not.’ Predictably that was George. ‘It would be theft, Miss Elen, and we would be punished accordingly.’

Allan chuckled. ‘The king does not put people in the stocks for helping themselves to supper, George. Have no fear on that account.’

‘I do not fear the king,’ George protested. ‘He is a very fair king. But the owner of these kitchens would not be so forgiving.’ He sounded as if he had experience in the matter, but how rule-abiding George had ever managed to find himself on Mary’s bad side was probably a greater mystery than the one that had caused Merlin to hide in this dusty cupboard.

‘She has never punished Merlin before,’ Sarah remarked. ‘And he’s forever stealing pies. Granted, he does it when she’s not looking…’

‘And we’ve all helped him get to them in the first place,’ Elen pointed out.

Sarah went on as if she hadn’t heard her friend at all. ‘But my point stands. She’s not as heartless as she pretends to be, you know. She just has very strong principles.’

George shook his head. ‘Everyone makes allowances for Merlin.’

They did? Merlin was thoroughly surprised to learn it. He certainly never noticed that before. Maybe someone should pass this piece of information on to Arthur.

‘Aye, but he has earned them a hundred times over,’ Allan said.

‘Oh, only a hundred times?’ Sarah asked.

‘Probably more,’ Tom agreed. He sounded like he was speaking through clenched teeth, but of course Sarah was still prodding at his injury.

‘Hm, I always did wonder – now that we are speaking about Merlin – why have we never told him that we know?’ Elen was leaning against a table right in Merlin’s line of sight. She was looking very pensive. ‘I mean, I understand why we wouldn’t let on that we do in the king’s presence, because would just be plain stupid, but why avoid telling Merlin himself?’

‘Oh, that one is easy,’ Allan said.

He however was not the one to explain what he meant. Sarah beat him to it. ‘Imagine you’re Merlin and you’ve got this fear about being discovered. The first thing you do when someone tells you that they know you have magic is make a run for it. He’d be halfway back to his mother’s village before we’d get the chance to explain the whole thing. And then I’d have to whack him over the head with the ladle to stop him from leaving and that would be such a shame.’ She glanced wistfully at the kitchen utensil in question. ‘I still haven’t got the dent out after the last one.’

‘So when you said you did whack that maid over the head, that was _not_ a joke?’ George asked tentatively.

She grinned. ‘Wouldn’t you like to know?’

‘Well, I haven’t seen her for ages,’ Tom said.

‘Oh.’ George took one step back, probably as a precaution.

Merlin would have very much liked to have done the same, but as it happened, he was stuck in the cupboard with no way out. They _knew_! They all _knew_! That could not be possible. He was always so careful…

Come to think of it, that wasn’t exactly true. He was careful around Arthur and the knights. Well, he had to be. But servants and guards were everywhere. And he could not be completely certain he had never done something when absolutely no one was looking. Clearly Mary had him figured out and so had Sarah. It would also explain Allan’s expressed thanks for helping him catch the thief a few days ago, because he had _seen_ it happen.

Really he felt like such an idiot.

Was this how Arthur felt on a regular basis?

Still, it didn’t make sense. Why would they all be so accepting? Why would they make allowances for him? All they knew was that magic was evil and that it was outlawed. So why would they make an exception for him?

‘You know, Merlin, I can almost hear your questions, you’re thinking that loud,’ Sarah said. ‘You can come out now.’

They had known he was here?

Well, pretending he wasn’t eavesdropping wouldn’t do him any good now. So he stepped out. ‘No pies here,’ he announced, smile plastered on his face. As if he had really come to the kitchens in search of pie. As if he hadn’t just overheard a conversation not meant – or was it? – for his ears.

No one bought it.

‘Sit down, you,’ Elen invited, although it sounded more like a command than a request. She pulled out a chair. ‘And let us put you out of your misery. It’s time to explain to you how Camelot really works.’

He must be dreaming. He must be. Something like this did not just happen.

When he didn’t move of his own volition, Allan moved over and manhandled him into the chair. Every instinct he had was telling him to get out of here as fast as his legs could carry him, but everything they had said before made him hesitate. If they had all known for so long and hadn’t told Arthur, then maybe they weren’t intending to tell him at all. That in itself was rather unbelievable, but it was also the only slightly reasonable explanation for the current events.

‘We tell this to everyone, you see,’ Allan said. ‘Once they have proven themselves to us, naturally.’

‘And once we’re certain that they won’t run and blab it to the king,’ Tom clarified.

‘And we are sure they are able to handle it,’ Elen added.

‘Of course we made a mistake a few times,’ Sarah went on, ladle in hand. ‘They just couldn’t cope or they wanted to tell the king. Very unfortunate. There was this lovely guardsman a couple of years back who thought it was his duty to tell the king, which was Uther at the time, so that wouldn’t do at all. Long story short, Allan was trying to knock some sense into him and it went sideways a bit. He now lives in one of the outlying villages, can’t stop drooling and he can’t even remember his own name.’

‘I’ve also heard it tell that his grave is outside the city walls?’ George looked politely confused.

‘No, no, that was the other one, a year or so before this one,’ Sarah corrected him.

Merlin in the meantime was feeling like he had gone to see a play and had come to the performance late, so that he had missed half the plot. ‘I don’t understand.’ And that was still something of an understatement.

‘Well, we’re telling you this to make sure you understand how serious we take this,’ Tom explained. He tried to move a bit and then quickly thought better of it. ‘We wouldn’t want you to think your secret isn’t safe with us. You’d only run and Camelot really cannot afford that.’

As it was, Merlin wasn’t certain he didn’t want to leg it after all, but no one had tried to kill him… yet. He supposed he could hear them out. And they had always been nice to him before…

‘But, you know?’

Sarah snorted. ‘Of course we know! You’ve not exactly been careful, Merlin. And your Dragoon disguise is really not that much of a disguise as long as you talk and behave exactly the same! We’re not all like the king.’ She said that as if it was something to be proud of. ‘Not that I don’t like the king, but he can be a bit… well, blind, you see. It’s not his fault, I suppose. Given who his father was I think it runs in his family. So on some things, we have to do his thinking for him. And where it comes to you we are all agreed we’re quite a lot more sensible than the king and the knights and the nobles.’

The way they were all talking betrayed that they thought that what they did was perfectly logical. In Merlin’s opinion, it really wasn’t.

‘But Arthur’s the king,’ he pointed out. And a prat and a really good friend as well. ‘Shouldn’t you have told him? Not that I’d want you to, but that’s what most people would do if they ever found out.’

‘Not most people, most _nobles_ ,’ Allan corrected him. ‘And we are not nobles. We are simply in the service of Camelot. There is a difference.’

If there was, Merlin didn’t see it.

Sarah noticed. ‘Who exactly do you think we serve, Merlin?’ she asked.

Well, that was a question he had an answer for at least. ‘Arthur.’

To his surprise, she shook her head. ‘No, quite wrong, I’m afraid. You see, we are here to serve the kingdom, so we have to do what is best for the kingdom. And it is in all our best interests to keep you alive and to keep you here, so that you can do what you do best.’

‘To keep the king out of trouble,’ Tom said.

‘To keep the enemy out,’ Elen continued.

‘To keep the king in a good mood,’ Sarah added cheekily. ‘And only you can do that. No offence to George, but he tried and he was rather bad at it.’

George looked offended. ‘The king was simply not accustomed to the high standards I believe should be standard practise for all serving staff.’ It was good to know that some things at least did not change. ‘Though I have attempted to raise standards, I fear I have been unsuccessful.’

‘So, that’s what we need you for,’ Allan concluded.

Merlin contemplated asking what the guards were for, if not protecting the kingdom, but thought better of it. ‘So you won’t smack me with the ladle?’ he asked, eyeing the object in Sarah’s hand warily. She was not known for making idle threats. When she threatened to do something, she did it, no doubt about it.

‘Why, were you going to report yourself?’

Merlin rolled his eyes. ‘I’m not an idiot.’ No matter what Arthur might think.

She nodded as if she had not expected any different. ‘Well, there we are then. All settled. Now, how about those pies Elen mentioned? I could do with a late night supper. Who knows, if we eat when Merlin’s here, Mary might even let it pass without a lecture.’

Good surprises very rarely happened in Merlin’s life. Arthur had a tendency of thinking up the kind of surprise that had him sore and tired by day’s end and invading sorcerers never did so for his amusement. They never surrendered when asked either. And even Gaius’s idea of a surprise consisted of having to sort out potions and collect herbs. In short, good things like this just didn’t happen.

Except that, just this once, they did.

So if he was just a bit more cheerful that next morning when he went to wake Arthur (‘rise and shine, sire, it is a beautiful morning!’) well, who would care? Of course, Arthur clearly did (‘ _Mer_ lin!’) and he was never one to hide his bad mood (‘Can’t you come up with anything new?’) whether that meant he threw stuff at Merlin’s head (a pillow and a goblet) or voiced his displeasure at the top of his lungs (‘Where’s the rest of my breakfast? I don’t need to lose weight. I am _not_ fat!’). But for just one day, nothing could dampen Merlin’s spirits.

It was a wonderful feeling.

**Author's Note:**

> Because really, not everyone is as thick as Arthur, are they? And Merlin will work it out next chapter.
> 
> This story does fit in with the Unseen Keepers of the Secret series (Guarding the Secret, Kitchen Tales and Serving the Kingdom) but I think this one can stand alone as well. All of the original characters in this story are mentioned in these previous three stories, though, so if you want to know more about them, feel free to check them out.
> 
> Thank you for reading! Reviews would be much appreciated.


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